


Nightmares

by ScytheMeister7



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety, Confusion, M/M, Nightmares, Waking up lost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7278628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScytheMeister7/pseuds/ScytheMeister7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark doesn't know where he is, nor the man who's currently trying to find him. Or maybe he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> It's short. It's not very sweet. Enjoy!

_“They hate you. They've always hated you. You're not special. You're not smart, or good. You're a horrible person, and they all hate you, Mark. Especially him.”_

_He can't see who's talking. It's too dark. The voice is disjointed, disconnected. It wraps itself around his body, making him shiver. The room, wherever he is, is both too hot and too cold at the same time. He can't feel his body. When he looks down, there's nothing there. He can't move, can't speak._

_“You're weak, Mark, and they all know that. They look down at you. You should give up. You should stop trying. Everyone wants you to. Don't you want to be good for them? You just need to disappear.”_

_He wants to scream. He has no voice, no body. He's just an entity, floating, existing in a space he has no idea how he got to. Strangely, he can still feel his heart, he can feel it beating faster and faster in fear and terror.  
_

_“Please….no…”  
_

_It’s useless to plead. No one can hear him. No one cares. No one loves him…  
_

_“Good boy. Now you understand…”_

* * *

 A sharp sound wakes him up. There are no lights on, so Mark flips over to the left side of the bed to try and reach for his lamp.

There is none. Finger tips touch nothing but air and as he reaches further, his fingers collide with a bare wood nightstand. There's nothing on it. Not Mark’s glasses, not the book he leaves there, saying he’ll finish it but never actually does.

Fear creeps into his body as he moves his hands down and pushes the comforter off of his torso. It feels wrong. His usual bedding is almost silk-like and a lot thicker. The one wrapped around his legs is thinner and feels like cotton. Mark can feel his heart rate pick up. He didn’t know where he was, the time, nor if he was even awake or alive.

_Am I still...dreaming?_ That thought frightens him more than the prospect of being alone in an unfamiliar place. If he were awake, it meant he could get away. If he wasn’t, then he was trapped. Mark let out harsh breaths, panting audibly into the cold air that surrounded him. He was scared.

Another sound, similar to the one that ‘woke’ him up rang through the room, though it was a bit louder this time. There was mumbling coming from behind the closed door and before he could brace himself, the door opened. A man’s silhouette stood in front. Mark couldn’t make out any of his facial features, only that the other person was a lot skinnier than him and maybe an inch shorter. He had to act now, or else he’d be stuck.

Flinging the bedding off of the rest of his body, Mark threw it at the figure, hoping it would cover his eyes. He tackled the body and without looking to make sure he’d gone down, Mark took off. He didn’t know where he was, but it was easy to assume he was on the second floor. He took the steps two at the time, almost crashing near the bottom. There was no time to steady himself as he flew through the strange house trying to find the door. It was hard to see.

Not only had the bedroom been dark, but the rest of the house resembled pitch blackness as well. It was like someone had painted the sky black, covering all the stars and natural nighttime lights. A sob tore it’s way out from his throat when he heard heavy footsteps. Whoever had brought him here was now free and was heading towards him.

Mark couldn’t help but panic. His ears were ringing and he felt nearly lightheaded with how much he’d been panting. Not enough blood was getting to his head. Doubled with not having his glasses and the darkness everywhere, blurriness made it even harder to see anything. Without any other plan, he dropped himself to the floor and pushed up against the closest wall, grateful that he happened to find himself behind a dinner table.

He curled into himself, covering his mouth with one hand while pulling his legs closer to his chest in the other. It was difficult to keep his sobs down, but he tried. Glancing up, he spotted a bright light moving back and forth along the hall he’d ran through just seconds ago. A heavily accented voice called out. Scottish? Irish?

“Mark? Where’d you go, Mark? I can’t see ‘cause of the fucking blackout.” The voice was both familiar and unfamiliar. Like he’d heard it before, but only distantly. Trying to think about it hurt too much so he stopped and pressed himself further into the wall instead. He knew the man would find him. It was only inevitable. Whoever it was lived here and thus, knew the layout a whole lot better than him. Plus, he had a light.

As soon as it shined on him, Mark would be exposed with nowhere to run. Strangely, he didn’t think tackling the man would work again. Slowly, the light began to reach toward him. The man was now in the same room, and if he moved the flashlight _just a few more inches to the left…._ Mark stupidly looked up right as the light was on his face, causing his eyesight to momentarily turn white. He kicked out in pain as he brought the heels of his hands up to his eyes in a desperate attempt to rub away the pain.

“Mark!” The other man’s voice shoots out and Mark lets out a ragged sound. He terrified, trapped, tired, lost, confused. Slowly, his vision returns and as he pulls his hands back, he hears someone drop down to their knees beside him. He doesn't move when thin wiry arms wrap around his neck and pull him close in what feels like a hug. His confusion grows.

_Why...is he hugging me?_ A hand rubs soothing circles on his back. Mark does nothing but bury his face where the other man’s neck meets his shoulder. He doesn't know why, but he feels comfortable here...safe even. It's like this is where he’s supposed to be.

“Shh, Mark. It's alright. I'm ‘ere…” Mark doesn't realize that he's still sobbing loudly until he needs to drag a breath in. After what feels like hours, his sobs subside and he's reduced to hiccup-y breaths.

Something...sparks in his head. A feeling of Deja vu hits him. He's been in this position before. He's been held in the door corner of a room as he cried before. He's felt the same thin but muscled arms wrap themselves around him before.

Images flash through his head at an almost rapid pace; he can barely concentrate on any of them. His head hurts and he tries to burrow himself deeper into the other man’s body. At the end of the slideshow in his head, a single thought appears. A name.

“J-Jack…” The name comes out both harsh and whispery at the same time. His voice is torn, but it feels good to use it properly. The man holding him tenses before pulling back. Even in the darkness, he can still make out a small smile on the other man’s face.

“There ya go, Mark. Now you're gettin’ it.”


End file.
